


reflections

by dirkin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Murder, Self-Harm, probably copious amounts of Edge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7028959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirkin/pseuds/dirkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>if I can change, i hope I never know</p>
            </blockquote>





	reflections

his blood sticks to his veins, lethargic, and he doesn’t bleed, now. what comes out of his wounds is an unholy tar, and it revolts him. not that it mattered what coursed through his body anymore. he could empty himself, extract it all until he was dry, and it would make no difference.

he lives, despite himself.

it took him months of sustained agony beyond conscious reason to get where he is now. he takes bullets unflinching; leaps from the greatest heights only to rekindle from the ashes like a blackened phoenix. within minutes his wounds are knitting themselves together, regenerating skin and bone and muscle where it no longer exists. limbs regrow, poison passes through him, fire only delays his inevitable wrath.

despite it all he still feels _pain_ , allows himself the pleasure of it, sometimes. when he rips apart his own skin he knows that he should be suffering, something other than coolly observing how soft the flesh he tears is. he lines each chunk up, one by one on the floor, and watches passively as they dissolve into smoke. the trenches he digs are filled and vanish without a trace in little over an hour.

but his scars.

they haunt him every time he removes his clothes. every other mark, every other imperfection has blurred and faded into his flesh like fog. but those damned scars, his own personal burden, pink against his dark arms. they taunt him. every other part of him is tinted a sickly grey; his wounds look necrotic before they fade. these are bright pink, filled with a mockery of life, something to remind him each and every time _you were human, and you failed to die, and now you’re damned to live no matter what you do_.

live? he scoffs. this is not living, it’s a bleak and choking survival. ghosts of life tickle at his throat when he lets himself breathe, but they’re only a memory. when he relieves others of their torment, he revels in their last moments, their fleeting lives, instead. as his talons pierce their necks, he listens to their breaths bubble and choke with something akin to bliss. the smell of copper and gunpowder is overwhelming, a scent he has grown to adore. through his gloves he can feel their pulse skittering, spiking; floundering, failing, then a marked silence.

if only he could achieve that peace, he thinks. if only his damn scars would release him from the shroud of his past, he could embrace his true role, vengeful spectre of the end, herald of the apocalypse. but here he is, still pathetically restricted by his own humanity, brought down by some tiny scars.

 

 

(he remembers when Jack would hold his hands and return all the care he had put in, tell him he was okay and good and worth it all. that his pain was not his to burden alone and that he would always be able to share them. that despite their shared incompetence, they would work through it together, like they always have, Jack and Gabriel, and that he loved him. he remembers when Jack would bandage and even stitch his wounds so he wouldn’t have to out himself to the rest of Overwatch. when the scars formed they were neater and smaller than they'd ever been before, and Jack never made a fuss over them. he was always there, comforting, helping, healing.

he remembers how his face looked, raw with betrayal, anger, but most of all _pity_ , as fire consumed them all.

he stops remembering.)

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> inbetween writing more important, serious fics i just wanted to be miserable lol  
> i WILL put all my misery and mental illnesses into reyes, alright, leave me alone


End file.
